Bewitched
by Whyntir
Summary: America and Russia are obviously head over heels for each other, but refuse to acknowledge it. England decides to place a spell that will make them finally see their true feelings . . . but something went wrong. Fem!RussiaXAmerica HUMOR Rating may change
1. Oops!

**A/N: I couldn't help it! This has been haunting me! I HAD A DREAM OF THIS LAST NIGHT! Just find this funny ^^;**

**Summery: America and Russia are obviously head over heels for each other, but refuse to acknowledge it. To finally get the lovebirds going, England decides to place a spell that will make them finally see their true feelings . . . but something went wrong.**

* * *

England sighed as he watched the playful banter the two nations continued with. It was America's birthday and Russia brought him a big box again this year. What was with that by the way? He didn't get the inside joke at all. Every year it was the same thing: a giant pink box that had the characters _XS_ printed on one side. And every year the same interaction as Alfred laughed loudly and Ivan would giggle insistently. Then they would exchange varied phrases afterwards and Ivan would leave. Sometimes the American would roll his eyes in annoyance or loudly say good bye waving like the git he was.

What was in that box anyway? Alfred wasn't _that_ small of a lad.

Anyway, the way they beat around the bush was annoying, and not just to him. Francis agreed that the two needed to stop messing around like a bunch of high-schoolers and just get down to business . . . not that he talked to the frog anyway. And most defiantly NOT in bed . . . And why in the world was he denying this to himself! He shook his head to clear the tangent thoughts before looking back at the American. He was waving by to Ivan, who politely waved back. There was that gleam in his eyes again. Longing, that's what it was. If only the wanker wasn't so thick-headed as to be completely oblivious to his own emotions. Even Arthur wasn't that stiff necked!

Alfred came over to the table with the box and set it down. "Hey Iggy. Like the party so far?" he asked obnoxiously.

"It's loud, Alfred. And _must_ you play such offensive music?"

"Huh? Lady Gaga is what's in right now! You gotta know that I have to play it at one point in time. And this isn't loud at all. Loud is when the car alarms start going!" he laughed just as loud. What a love-sick fool, looking for pleasure where it has already left the building.

"So why doesn't Russia stay for the festivities?" the Englishman asked as he sipped his tea. He helped himself to Alfred's kitchen. His former colony only seemed to use it for coffee. What a wretched thing it was too.

America blinked before looking away and shrugging, "I dunno. Maybe he doesn't want to overstay his welcome."

"Have you ever _asked_ him to stay for a party?"

Again that childish blinking. America was in it bad. "Huh . . . no. But then nobody else would come I'd figure. He _is_ kinda stand-offish. Maybe he wouldn't enjoy being the wall flower. Like I said, I dunno. Why are we talking about the Abominable Snowman anyway?"

"Just curious. He leaves every year and doesn't stay longer than twelve minutes every time."

"Twelve minutes huh?"

England could _hear_ those rusty gears moving in the American's skull, "But like I said, just curious."

* * *

France sat beside him on the couch as America clung to his brother – what was his name? – Canada on the floor directly in front of the screen. He had _insisted_ they watched a scary movie together, even though the git was terrified of the pathetic things. This particular movie was called _Case 39_. Arthur didn't even bother understanding the plot. Monsters followed some girl where ever she went. Ooh, creepy. Japan watched the screen, trying to keep from staring at the American's antics. Still, Italy was pulling a fast one and clutching onto Germany who sat on the loveseat to the right. It was quite amusing.

He felt a shiver go up his spine as something slid against his leg. He closed his eyes and counted to ten slowly. If that frog thought that he could – The feeling went _higher_. He smacked away Francis' leg and pouted. No, he would not give Francis the attention he wanted _today_. He felt breath against his neck and reaching to his ear, "_Mon cher_, I want to have a word with you in the kitchen."

England's eyebrow twitched, what had the pervert been reading that needed a _kitchen!_ Said pervert giggled at the reaction, _"Non, non mon cher_, I wanted to talk to you about our little Alfred."

Oh, fine. But there had _better_ not be anything kinky in-between. The two stood up and dismissed themselves before heading into the kitchen. Arthur folded his arms and looked at the Frenchman, "So what is it you wanted to discuss with me that was about that sorry git crying over a film strip?"

"Did you notice when Russia left?" he asked teasingly, pouring himself a glass of Champaign.

"What was different from all the other years?"

"He gazed after him with a small smile. Not that big gaudy one he wears all the time," the frog explained, sipping his drink.

Arthur rolled his eyes, "You're one to talk about _gaudy_ Francis. But I get what you mean. I noticed that his eyes went back to the door after he closed it." He looked at the ceiling for a moment before looking back at France. The older nation had a gleam in his eye. A gleam he knew. "No, whatever scheme is forming in that cumquat of a brain you have, I do _not_ want to hear it."

"Oh but dear _Angleterre_, you are the most important factor in my little plan."

"Oh really?"

* * *

_September_

In the meeting room there was another verbal altercation when Russia pointed out that America's plan to stop tsunamis from hitting Japan due to the many earthquakes that had happened around the world at the beginning of the year was a very impractical one; specifically the part of giant hero made completely out of water absorbing the flow of the rushing waves. Alfred had fought back and then it came down to insults and picking at past wounds. Yeah, those two had it really bad. England knew it was all banter when Russia's aura never stifled the air. He was completely calm, as was Alfred since the superpower never began whining but fought back toe to toe.

Once the meeting was over, the two passed by each other without a word, but Russia followed America with his eyes, and Alfred glanced back after taking a few steps away, obviously love-sick. It seemed Francis' plan _would_ be needed to make the two mules see the light. Arthur made his way into his room in the UN building and locked the door. Absolutely _NO_ distractions can take placed during his magic rituals, lest something _really_ bad could result. First he'd need to find that book, by then those two would be asleep and he could place the spell on them without their sudden knowing. Ah, but what spell to use exactly.

By the time England decided, it was almost midnight; Perfect time to start. He pulled his hood over his blonde hair and drew a pentagram on the floor in chalk. And no, the chalk did not say _Playground Rulz_ on it. Once it was all set up, he began the ritual.

* * *

Francis was bored, and he had just finished his new book and felt a little hot and disturbed, but it was nothing a little English ass couldn't fix. He decided to see his little England so he could work his _magic_ on him, if you catch the double meaning. By this time, he believed that whatever spell England picked, it would be finished. He made his way to the Englishman's room to find the door locked. Well that was rude. Good thing he knew how to pick a simple lock like this. Who didn't, right?

* * *

England heard the lock click behind him in the middle of his sentence. Surprised, he turned around to find a horny Frenchman in his doorway. Flustered, Arthur gave him a sharp glare; completely forgetting about his love spell he was right in the middle of making. "Go-," oops. The physical embodiment of the spell shot through the wall and off to god knows where. God damn it!

"You git! Look what you did! I have no idea where that little ball of magic went! I don't even know what it does! The spell wasn't finished you, you . . .!"

"Ah, but _mon cher_, I have a horrible issue that only you can take care of," Francis whined, "What do you expect me to do?"

Arthur began closing the door on his boyfriend, "Wank!" With that, he slammed the door shut.

* * *

The next morning Ivan woke up, but something didn't seem right. Oh well. He slipped out of bed and stretched, bending backwards so as to pop his spine. After a satisfying crack, he sighed and made his way to the bathroom. He had gone to sleep in his boxers and a tee shirt, but he suddenly felt the change. His clothes were too big. Odd, he wasn't one to lose weight. He was toned anyway, how could he suddenly become so small? He rubbed the sleep from his eyes, splashed water on his face from the built in bathroom and looked in the mirror. Violet eyes widened in shock and an earsplitting scream echoed through the halls of the UN.

* * *

Alfred woke up slowly. He dreamed about Ivan again. Why was he always in his dreams making those beautiful noises? They always left him with a prominent issue he'd either have to deal with, or ignore. Today he'd deal with it. Tony would usually cuss him out saying, _"Stop dreaming of the fucking commie you fucking idiot."_ The alien was probably right. Ivan made a point to pick out all his 'stupid' ideas and call him dumb in-between. Still, those beautiful noises that could possibly come out of those pale lips . . .

* * *

He had just washed his hands and pulled on a pair of pants when a high-pitched, yet familiar scream pierced the air. It was really loud to him, so it was on his floor. The only ones on his floor were Germany, Japan, Italy, France, Russia, and himself. He looked out the door into the hall where everyone was . . . besides Ivan. Perplexed, Alfred stepped out and made his way over to the door. Germany had also guessed it had come from the Russian's room, but stood looking thoroughly confused.

He turned to the American, "He refuses to come out, and he sounds like he's crying. Also there's a strange pitch to his voice."

Ivan crying? The apocalypse had begun, "Alright, I'll take care of him. You guys go back to your rooms and get dressed, especially you France." The guy was naked! Once they all left, he knocked on the door, "Ivan, it's me."

"Go away," a little voice floated through the wood door. He could hear the stifled sobs.

"Come on Russia, I'm the hero, remember?" he tried the doorknob; it was locked, "Let me in so I can help."

"_Nyet_! Go away!"

"I'll knock down the door."

"_NYET!_ Go on with the meeting without me."

Alfred thought that one through for a moment before deciding his idea was better. So, he took a few steps back and bounced on his toes for a moment before rushing the door. It burst open with hardly a problem. He caught himself and looked around until he saw the person huddled in the courner.

". . . . I-Ivan?"

"WHAT PART OF '_NO'_ DO YOU NOT UNDERSTAND!" the girl in the courner screamed, tears streaming down from her violet eyes.

* * *

**A/N: So much fun! Review. I may change the rating to M . . . but I don't know.**


	2. Ratted Out

Alfred stared longer at the girl in the corner. She had the same colored hair as Ivan, but it went down to her waist, and the angry violet eyes had that certain angle that only women could achieve. Not to mention the HUGE Ta-Tas under the T-shirt. And there was an obvious lack of bra . . . A boot suddenly hit him in the head. Ivan blushed horribly as the other stared at the regions below his face. He didn't want to be reminded of how busty his chest was! This was like one of those nightmares he had at random times throughout the years since childhood of waking up with Ukraine's painful rack. NOW IT HAD COME TRUE!

"Alfred, my eyes are here!" he snapped, the American quickly refocusing.

"What . . .? How? When did this happen?"

A full bottom lip poked out in an angry pout as Ivan looked down, "I don't know, just when I woke up my clothes didn't fit right and I was a girl in the mirror." Right now, she (he should consider Ivan a girl now, right? I mean, calling him a He felt really wrong the way he was now) was wearing a white T-shirt and white, blue, and red boxers of the Russian flag that were obviously too big. If she stood up, they'd be on the floor. Alfred could honestly say she had a slender figure.

He sighed and used his arm to hold up the other as he pondered his current situation. He had no idea what exactly had caused this transformation, so he didn't know how to UN-do it. Even Heroes weren't god; they didn't know everything . . . except for Superman. How did that guy do it? Anyway, back on topic. "So what are we going to do?"

"I would prefer some clothes."

* * *

It was utterly embarrassing standing in front of the checker, whom he had known for, like, ever. She was a pretty girl with honey blond hair and icy blue eyes. He had gone to the clothing store a few times (okay often, but it wasn't like he went just to see her) and the way she scrutinized him as she rung up the women's clothing and her eyebrows twitched at the large-sized bra. He knew she was itching to ask, and he blushed as she watched him carefully.

"So who are you getting these for?" she finally asked, her voice tense though she tried to make conversation.

He shuffled uncomfortably, "A friend."

She settled into a fitful silence, jealousy written all over her face. Come on! It wasn't like it was some sexy Victoria's Secret lingerie, though admittedly he pondered it. The thought of another boot to the head or, worse yet, a metal pipe connecting to his skull was not quite so appealing. Then again, she might be jealous of Russia's bust . . . if he was a girl, he would be too. He returned to the room and the second he handed over the clothes, the door was slammed shut in his face.

"You're welcome!" he called awkwardly before sighing and leaning against the wall, sorting through what he could do? Russia would blatantly refuse to attend the meeting now, and everyone would harass him for information, France especially since the blonde knew the American had been the last to see the tall Russian. Damn it! How did this happen anyway? This was supposed to be, like, physically impossible!

"Alfred, there you are. What was the wretched noise this morning?" England announced, striding closer. DAMN IT!

Alfred smiled, tense and strained, "'Morning Artie."

"What are you doing in front of Russia's door?" England was thoroughly surprised. He could have sworn the half-finished love spell wouldn't affect either of them. Especially America since he had yet to add his name to the concoction, "Finally going to confess?"

"Whaaaa-!" Alfred exclaimed, his ears burning, "N-No! W-what are you talking about!"

"Oh come on Alfred, we all know that the two of you-."

"America?" a small, timid voice peeked around the corner, "Who is there?"

Both males turned to see large, blinking, owlish violet eyes staring at them through the near-complete darkness of Russia's room. A bottom lip, a light peach color, pouted out in a sweet, curious manner while porcelain blonde locks draped over slender, bare shoulders, the sides pulled back in a small ponytail. Pale skin was dusted with a rosy shade of a blush, which steadily grew deeper as the person registered the situation.

England's jaw slackened and hung on loose hinges. Whoever this girl was, she was absolutely gorgeous. Never had he seen this girl before . . . but what was she doing in Russia's . . .

A creepy aura flowed from the girl, her body shaking from the force of it. Before either of the Anglo nations could speak, the door slammed close with a loud bang that echoed down the halls. "_Ja ne sobirajus' _(I'm not going)!"

Alfred sighed at the now worse situation. Arthur looked completely taken aback . . . and love struck. Jealousy whispered mean things in his mind, but Alfred pushed it away. He knocked firmly on the door, "I-Ru-Um . . . R-Russia, you can't just stay holed up in there forever. Maybe we can fix your problem. Some of the other countries know magic, perhaps a spell was put on you." The door cracked open and Alfred allowed an encouraging smile, "That's right. It's okay-." He was cut off by the steady flow of "Kolkolkol" flowing through the crack.

England's heart stopped as he remembered the spell, his green eyes lighting up at the connection, which didn't go unnoticed by the angry Russian watching them as a cornered animal. She lunged at his throat with an ungodly screech, "YOU DID THIS! _UMERET_ (Die)!"

* * *

They made their way down the halls, England with a large bruise on his jaw, Alfred with an embarrassed frown, and a smaller figure between them, their face covered with a paper bag and holes cut into the material. The staff stared peculiarly at the odd trio before the dark aura of Russia had them scurrying on their way, still, it didn't stop Alfred from picking up a few lewd comments made by his people about Russia's body. . . . His Russia!

They entered the conference room, Russia immediately using her male bodyguards to hide her slighter, shorter frame. It seemed no one saw her, but what was the point? Alfred had asked himself this on the way down. Russia didn't look anything like her male self besides the eyes. She actually was quite pretty, if only something happened to that bag . . .

"_Bonjour_ ~!" France greeted happily as he approached them, "You two are late. You aren't cheating on me, are you _mon Angleterre_?" He winked suggestively but then his eyes widened as he saw the bruise on his England's face. "Oh _mon Dieu_! What happen to your lovely face Arthur!"

The Englishman flushed before remembering his face and quickly covered the bruise which stung under his touch. He winced at the pain, only succeeding in worrying his boyfriend even more. "It's nothing Frog," he snapped, hoping his attitude would calm the other's nerves. It didn't.

"What in the world happened _Angleterre_?" he fretted prying the other's hand away.

Alfred sighed at the antics and turned to check on their near-forgotten member when he saw her inching for the door, her back to him. He caught himself as he was about to call out, but he didn't retrieve his hand that lunged at her. He stopped himself from grabbing the dress, but that made it a push, throwing the girl to the ground with a cry of surprise. She skid along the waxed floor from the momentum, something that ashamed Alfred deeply, and the bag slipped off her head.

Everything silenced as everyone turned to look at what had happened. Even France and England froze in their peculiar poses, everyone looked as statues as the girl groaned and sat up, her dress slipping ever so slightly, revealing a hot view of her cleavage. She looked up innocently, tears in her eyes. While the other countries though it was because of the fall, Alfred and Arthur knew it was because everyone was looking. She pulled up her dress and stood, making to leave when the door was suddenly shut before she could reach it, Germany standing guard.

"What is this Alfred! You brought a human here! What were you thinking!"

Alfred blinked, they didn't realize who it was, "I- uhh-."

"This is inexcusable! I thought you knew better than that!"

"But I-."

"Oh-no!" Feliciano exclaimed, tears in his eyes, "W-we don't have to kill her, d-do we?"

"What!" America shouted. Okay, this was getting out of hand!

France left England's side by now and was circling Russia like a lecherous shark. She braced herself, ready to give him a good kick to the No-Noes if he did something strange, "I don't know, she looks kind of nice. Why don't we keep her, like a pet or something."

"She's a human being you bloody frog!"

"Oh for the love of god!" America finally shouted, tearing at his hair, "It's NOT a human! It's Russia!"

Everything went quiet. Russia turned around sharply and glared him down, "_Predatel'_ (Traitor)."

* * *

**A/N: Yay~!**


	3. Wales

"One more time and I _swear_ Gilbert, I will crush your skull in so far that it'll leave a _permanent_ message," Hungary warned, holding her frying pan up fiercely. They were waiting for the G8 meeting to conclude so the actual UN summit could begin. America had said that it was something extremely important, so it pushed the meeting back a day or so. But knowing America, how important could it be? Gilbert had been stalking Elizabeta, more like following her around like a lost puppy, bugging her to call him '_Awesome'_ like when they were kids. She always used to fall for it before, but now it was annoying. Seriously, for being such an old country (so old he was technically dead) he acted four!

Prussia laughed arrogantly, albeit nervously, "Oh, come on Liz, you know I'm only playing . . . no need for violence."

"Oh, this isn't violence, I'll _show_ you violence!" As she lunged at the albino nation whose child smile was wavering, but suddenly there was a loud crash from down the hall. Both froze and looked in the general direction of it the noise. Forgetting her previous, murderous intent, Hungary relaxed and blinked curiously, "Is that where the meeting is being held?"

"Sounds like," Prussia shrugged, not too interested in the events, "Probably another pointless argument among the G-8 class."

Hungary suddenly smirked maliciously, "Let's go check it out. She hurried down the hall and pressed her ear against the doors to find the right room.

"_You said you'd wait until I was ready!"_

"_Yeah . . . well-."_

"_Don't you 'yeah, well' me America! I wasn't ready!"_

"_I'm sorry! Ow! Let go of my ear! God, what are you, my mother!"_

The two countries on the other side of the door glanced up at each other questioningly. Who was the female nation in the G-8? As far as they knew, there were only men of varying degrees of homosexual vibes radiating off of them in that specific 'club'. Their glances shot back a forth questioning and answering.

_Belgium?_

_No, she's too happy-hyper to be that pissed off._

_Mexico?_

_Maybe, she and America have that love-hate-hate thing between them ever since Arizona, but the accent didn't fit._

_Taiwan?_

_No way, she had just about no international political power, and all the G-8 have some influence._

They had been so engrossed in their silent conversation that they hadn't heard the most important bit. Important? Yes, as in, the opening of said door they were plastered against.

"_I think we should contact your sisters about this matter,"_ Germany mused through the wood panel.

There was a soft squeak, _"Th-that will not be necessary, truly. I think it would be best if they don't know."_

"_Aiya, you can't hide like this forever you know. The world needs to know . . . as well as your boss, aru."_

"_I understand, but now would-."_

"_Be a perfect time!" _Italy cheered, his feet scampering to the door.

"_Ah! Italy, wait!"_

"_Ve~ I'll get them, don't worr-."_

The doors swung open and the two eavesdropping nations fell into the room, Hungary on Prussia who was now face-planted quite cruelly into the tile floor. Everyone stared at them, Russia ducking behind the closest male, which happened to be England, before peeking around. Now caught they really had no excuse for themselves, the brunette jumped to her feet, standing on Prussia's back, and laughed nervously.

"Sorry, we heard a lot of screaming and shouting, so we were worried and yeah . . ." she attempted to laugh off her misdemeanor, but that was obviously not happening. Meanwhile, Gilbert struggled to lift his head as he groaned from the girl's weight. Not really trying to pull a pervert, he glanced up to see England mere inches from his nose and some really hot chick in a dress that was at just the right angle to catch a glimpse of satin panties.

"Oh . . . wow," he mused, staring up at her, "You're a pretty one."

Where had the facet pipe come from?

* * *

"So that is how it happened," England finished his long explanation with an extended sigh to the gathered nations, conveniently leaving out the fact that he did it to bring Alfred and Ivan together. Around the G-8 table sat the normal occupants as well as Ukraine and Belarus with an interested Hungary and beaten Prussia. The island nation sat in his chair with a huff, not missing the fact that Francis was watching the turned-female nation like how a wolf watches a sheep in a pasture. Or a defenseless lamb all alone with its caretaker armed with nothing but their two fists, though with said caretaker being Alfred, that was like arming them with a bazooka in each hand.

Everyone nodded as they tossed the information over in their heads. No one said anything as they all watched the Russian, who was now inching behind the American. Her face a brilliant pink color from a mixture of anger and embarrassment; she wasn't used to being the center of attention.

Suddenly the silence was broken. "Ve~ I think Russia makes a very pretty girl~!" Italy called out happily, causing the Eastern country to flush deeper. Oh sure, now the Italian would like her, just because she was a girl! He never wanted to be her friend before!

"I am soooooo agreeing with Italy," Prussia laughed, "If you looked that way during the Cold War, everyone would have become a communist without hesitation, especially America. Ha! Can you imagine the Statue of Liberty being fashioned after _Russia_!"

Now it was Alfred's turn to blush lightly. He now regretted ever getting dunk with the albino and confessing his affections of the other nation. And as God's cruel joke, it was the only thing the Germanic ex-nation recalled of the night. Still, if Russia had looked the way she did now . . . okay he couldn't give up the fight for Free-Marketing, but it would have been extremely hard to keep the Cold War going, and making that historical fifty-year mark would have been unfathomable.

"Gilbert!" Ludwig snapped angrily before sighing, "I guess we'll have to change Russia's name until we can find a way to correct this situation. Excuse me, but Ivan hardly fits you in your current predicament."

"Oh _oui_! I have a number of beautiful names that would fit a gorgeous creature such as yourself," the lecherous frog pounced.

"_Nyet_, no thank you France," Russia barked, keeping her harsh tone though it was much less threatening as she peeked behind the American. Alfred flushed a little more as he felt her breath caress the shell of his ear. Her breath was so unnaturally cold, but sensual all the same . . . even if she did not realize the effect she had on him.

Ukraine nodded, looking close to tears, "I-I guess there's nothing we can do right now, yes? Will the magic wear off, or do we need a counter-spell?"

"I am not exactly sure. I don't even know the full extent of the magic. For all we know, it could be permanent," Arthur mused, Russia's eyes widened in shock before narrowing, a steady stream of 'Kol's hissed past her lips.

"Inna."

The entire assembly went quiet for a moment and turned to the voice. Belarus stood behind Russia and looked her brother-sister up and down. "We should use Inna until you can return to your glorious self brother."

"N-Natalya . . ."

Belarus took Russia's hands in a tight grip and held them to her chest, love (obsession) still glimmering in her eyes, "I will always love you brother, no matter what form you take. I will always be here for you, and even if the spell can never be broken, then we will still be together. Forget what the others think."

Everyone (besides France) moved a few inches away. This was a weird situation to begin with, but the proposal of a lesbian relationship was not helping to return the atmosphere to a form of normalcy. Okay, maybe a little since Russia now knew she would still have to run from her little sister, male or not. The romantic nation of Europe, however, was drooling on his papers and notes. The mental images were amazing as they ran through his mind, blood from his nose joining the trail of saliva.

Hungary slung an arm over Russia's shoulder and pulled her away from the obsessed baby sister, "Inna, I like it. You make a real cute girl too. I've always wondered what it would be like to have a penis. How does having breasts feel?"

"Horrible."

The eastern European nation laughed, "All of us feel; that way, just wait until your monthly starts."

"Anyway," England interrupted with a polite cough into his fist, not wanting to delve deeper into the subject, "I suggest that all nations familiar in magic should look through their own books and try to find a reverse spell of some kind. The Old World nations nodded, all having their own degree of witchcraft in their primes. Even Alfred nodded his head; his strong relations to England back in the day also had a bleed-through effect into his own population which was also the start of his Salem Witch Trials, still a pretty touchy subject.

"If that is all," Ludwig announced, "Then I guess this meeting is adjourned. In one month we'll regroup here and share whatever it is we know. Until them we will keep Russia's change a secret between us. Agreed?" A chorus of 'yeses' sang in numerous tongues before they started collecting their things and filing out with promises of aid to Russia in any way they could, though Inna accepted the well-wishes, Alfred could see the cynicism in the violet pools. Russia was still Russia; it was a comforting thought to know that she wouldn't use her newfound allurement to manipulate things into her favor. It wouldn't be hard for her to accomplish, but she was more worried about the others trying to take advantage of _her_.

Alfred shuffled forward, hesitant to approach her because of her excessively worrisome nature; maybe this was why Belarus was so knife-happy. "Iv-Inna, uh, I can walk you back to your room if you'd like an escort."

"I am not a child America; I can find my way back on my own. I need to get home to look through my basement to find a reversal to this." Before he could try and patch up his obvious misstep, Russia whisked out the room, her dress flaring slightly behind her as if it were her jacket, which would actually be at her ankles right now. He sighed, way to screw things up America, try to be courteous. Did he honestly forget that only twenty-four hours ago Russia had been a full-grown man!

* * *

As she hurried down the hall to her room, she couldn't help but get fed up with how the skirt of the dress flared up around her slender, long legs. She would need pants of some kind, and soon. Not only did the male nations of the world look at her side-ways, but human men would do double-takes as she passed, whisper to each other and motion in her direction and _stare_. They would stop and _stare_! This was America though, so while annoying, it wasn't unexpected. What got her really upset was how they would begin to follow after her, instincts urging her to bear a faucet pipe and fight. Sadly, she couldn't do that to America's people without threat of war.

Russia was about to turn around and tell them off in her mother tongue when she was suddenly pushed back by another body. She fell to the tile floor and groaned in pain, not exactly noticing her dress was lifted in the most exposing way possible, the violet panties displayed to the world. Why was she always falling down? America, well, that was expected, not many other countries carried super strength, especially the one standing over him apologizing fervently to her as he picked up the papers that fell to the ground and reached a hand out to her.

"Toris?" Russia was more than a little offended that, not only had such a spineless nation knocked her to the ground with a simple bump. Still, she took the slender hand and was quickly pulled to her feet.

"Are you alright Miss? I'm sorry, I just rounded the courner as you came up and I didn't have enough time to stop. You aren't hurt, are you?" he fretted, helping her dust off the dirt her clothing had attracted.

She frowned; did he really not recognize her? "Lithuania, it's me. Russia~?" The brunette froze in his administrations to stare at her. Now that those words had escaped the girl's mouth, there was an uncanny resemblance to his former keeper.

"I-Ivan? What happened to you!"

"Foul magic," she hissed, "Inna, call me Inna for now."

Lithuania couldn't help himself; he gawked and looked Russia up and down over and over. In the words of the later generations: Holy fuck! As a man, Russia had been tall, slender but with a fair amount of muscles. His nose was a little too big, yet attractively different. The porcelain locks of hair had always been clean and soft to the touch, but as a girl. Inna was small, only up to his nose and so terribly thin, she looked almost half-starved. He associated the change to her age appearance, from twenty-something to an older teen, she probably took in more of her younger population's appearance, and not many knew of the multitudes of homeless teens than inhabited the cities. The long hair shimmered like platinum and flowed between his fingers like silk. She was beautiful.

Feeling his face heat up, Toris changed his mental focus, "So how can we change you back?" Not that h had anything against _this_ change.

"I'm not sure. Everyone in the G-8 promised to look through their Old World mystic books, but unless we know the full extent of the spell, we may never find a counter."

"Well, I know that Wales knows more about the spells than England," Lithuania offered, "maybe you should see her?"

Russia crinkled her small nose with a look of distaste, "That old hag again, she used to summon me more than England did. Do you know how traumatizing it is for a child to be in his home and then suddenly in a dark basement filled with candles and an ugly old woman reciting words of the devil?"

"You got through it, didn't you?" he pointed out rather bluntly, normally he would never talk to Russia as such, but it was still hard not to see this girl as anybody _but_ the Eastern European, former superpower.

She made a pouty face and bobbed her head from left to right, "I guess."

"Then what can be the worst that can happen?"

* * *

Wales clutched her sides as she laughed, her face turning a slight reddish hue from her guffawing. Russia sneered, looking ready to cry more than pull out her faucet pipe though. To say she hated Wales was an understatement.

* * *

**A/N: That took a real long time. Sorry for the awkward moments. I was all 'This don't look right . . . but I can't think up anything else'. T.T Anyway, reviews? I'm sorry I added an OC, but Wales is just too good to miss up the chance for.**


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